What I am accused of, and what I admit doing, was no crime.

The dead man was a traitor, and I was deputed to kill him.

I did it, and this is the end." The words had scarcely left his lips before he took a revolver from his coat-pocket, placed it to his right temple and, before I could prevent him, had pulled the trigger.

He fell with a crash at my feet, and before the ship's doctor could be brought to his side, he was dead.

Who he really was, or to what Secret Society he belonged--for his last words to me warranted the belief that he was a member of some such organization--we were never able to discover.